A Forced Detour
by ParanoiaPoliticianDiva77
Summary: West Side Story  film version. A oneshot of Anita on the night of the rumble. R&R thanks.


_**A Forced Detour**_

Anita bit her lip as she sat before the mirror, the red hue of the sunset pouring through the window, illuminating the room to an eerie glow. Applying rouge to her cheeks, her hands shook, no matter how much she had tried to calm herself.

The girl was worried; Bernardo was an excellent fighter, she knew it, but so were those white boys he was fighting. Silly boy, she shook her head. Back home they did not have such gangs, fights or war councils. The men occasionally fought in the pub, but not this warlike strategy of owning the streets.

"Oh well" Anita mused "As long as he returns tonight, no matter how hot and tired he is...as long as he's here" she smiled into the mirror, applying the light lipstick and blotting her lips with a wad of tissue.

Picking up a brush, the young girl thought of Bernardo; he thought he knew everything that boy, he thought just because he had lived here several months before she and the family arrived. He tried to take authority of her and his younger sister, and now this continuous fighting.

"Fool" she spat, thinking of her lover and she stood, walking to the window overlooking the alleyways below. Washing hung limply on the lines between buildings, but the streets were empty, sinister in the glow of the sunset. Anita shook her head, her face now in her hands, the nerves overtaking her as she sighed "I hope he returns soon"

Anita set about cleaning the room, putting away clothes strewn across her small bed and the messy floor. She moved to the kitchen, fixing it to rights, the numerous pots and pans either thrown in a sink of water or into the drawers.

"Anita, what are you doing?" Maria emerged from her room, staring at her friend who was in her best red dress, her face made up perfectly, her dark hair fixed out, long and curled, olive skin glowing as she washed the dishes.

"Oh nothing, just thought the place needed a tidy" Anita said simply, brushing a strand of hair from her face, turning from the girl.

Maria shook her head "You are worried about the fighting perhaps?" and at the mention Anita's hands shook and she dropped a bowl, the crockery smashing across the floor.

"No, no of course not, I'm just fixing up the place," she reassured Maria as she bent down and started to pick up the pieces "silly me, my hands were wet"

"Anita" Maria walked to the older girl and sat on the floor "You don't need to fret and try to distract yourself with housework; the fight will be stopped,"

"I don't trust that white boy of yours to stop it, they'll fight" Anita dumped the shards into a bin and turned from Maria.

"He will stop it! Have faith Anita" Maria protested but Anita simply stared at her.

"You live in a fantasy Maria. I cannot have faith; all I can do is hope your brother walks in through that door in a few hours" Anita said coldly, nodding to the door across the room. She then left the kitchen, ignoring Maria's stare, leaving to sit quietly in her own room.

Bernardo would return; he would walk through that door before she could start to worry. He would tell her of either his glorious victory or a poor defeat, and hence, Anita would both break out the champagne to celebrate with him or bring out the red wine and comfort her boy.

"Anita" he would say, after hours of celebration or drowning their sorrows, and she would turn to him as he continued lovingly "I do love you, you're always here for me"

"I'll always be here for you Bernardo, you should know that" she would then kiss him, passionately and he would pull away from her, something else on his mind.

"No Anita, I don't want that, merely that," he would say and she would be taken aback, wondering coyly what he was up to "I want you, forever, please Anita; be my wife"

And the box would come from his jacket pocket, a small but very pretty engagement ring, and he would apologise for how small it was, adding that once he had more money he would buy a diamond as big as her eye. Of course, she, Anita, would reassure him that she doesn't care about anything as long as she can marry him.

Anita smiled happily, lying back on the bed and kicking of her best shoes, dreaming of how he would take her into his arms and kiss her, perhaps after making some smart comment. They always fought; they argued every waking hour and would make up almost immediately afterwards.

He would repeat how he loves her, he would say until she was dizzy with the thought. It wouldn't be a long engagement, only long enough to get everything ready. She would make her dress and it would be silk, beautiful white silk...

"Anita! Anita!" and Anita jolted, waking up, sitting up in the darkness of the room, her stomach sickening as she heard the sound of sobbing, worried screams and shouts throughout the building. She flicked on a light, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she heard Toro's voice. The boy was standing outside her locked door and she let him in quickly.

Then she screamed.

He was covered in blood; his face was purple and bruised. Cuts and bruises trailed up his arms and there were scrapes across his neck.

"No!" she gasped "What is it! What went wrong?" her eyes widened and Toro fell to her bed, breathing heavily as tears spilled down his face. She felt even sicker, the sight of him, covered in so much blood. Anita closed her eyes and breathed calmly.

"What happened at the fight?" she said finally and the sobbing tortured her ears. "Toro, tell me"

"Bernardo..." he muttered and Anita's face whitened; suddenly her mouth dry and palms sweaty. She grabbed a hold of his shoulders and shook the man, her dark eyes forcefully gazing into his.

"What happened!" she screamed and he looked up at her pitifully.

"He's dead Anita," he said blankly.

"No he's not" she argued, "You're lying, who's blood is that on your shirt? A white boy? Did you win?"

"Anita! He's dead! I tried to help him! He was bleeding everywhere, this is his blood! His blood Anita! What more proof do you want?" Toro raged, the grief taking hold as anger spilled out.

"You bastard immigrant you! Lying bastard!" she screeched, slapping him across the face and he stared at her, raising his hand.

"The blood on my hand is his" he said very calmly "Knives were drawn and he killed a white boy. Suddenly the boy's friend launched himself at Bernardo and before we knew it there was blood everywhere, everyone was fighting and sirens were approaching. He died in a few moments, painlessly"

"No" Anita, bit her lip and turned to the window, staring to the black night sky; the moon was gone, the stars struggling to be seen through the smog of the city "Leave me be Toro"

He left.

She stood there for a few moments, brought back to reality by this. There was to be no victory, there was no victory when Bernardo was gone. There could be no celebration, no wine, no proposals, no rings, no wedding. Her life had disappeared with a knife's quick action.

Sitting now on the bed, the bed covered in what was Bernardo's blood, Anita was suddenly sick across the floor. Her best shoes, her red dress, ruined. Her life, destroyed.

The girl didn't remember crying, but suddenly she looked up to the mirror and her face was wet with tears. Maybe she had begun to cry when she and Toro spoke, maybe only now.

She didn't know.

Anita heard screams of horror in the next room and knew it to be Maria. The girl had gone to wait on the roof of the apartment, she probably had only just been told about her brother.

Standing, Anita left the room and watched calmly as Maria picked up whatever came to hand in the kitchen, throwing it at the walls, the floor, raging like an animal. The poor girl was only fifteen years old and Bernardo was everything to her.

"Maria" she said quietly and the girl turned to her, her face red with anger. "Please calm down"

"Calm down!" screeched Maria "My brother is dead! At his hands! His hands" she sobbed, sinking into a chair and Anita frowned; what was the poor thing talking about.

"Whose hands?" she said quietly and Maria looked up at her.

"Him" she said simply and Anita suddenly understood; the white boy Maria had been caught kissing earlier that day, that Tony she had sent to stop the fighting. He was the one who killed Bernardo and Anita was filled with rage.

"It's your own stupid fault isn't it!? Getting involved with one of them! Clever girl! You send a white boy to stop the fighting and he kills your brother!" and Anita left the room, slamming her door and falling into her bed, sobbing finally.

Everything would be different now. Her life had been planned out in her head ever since she had met Bernardo; they would always be together, that fool and her, they would marry and he would grow into a respectable man, forgetting his days as hoodlum. They would have children, attend parties, and have money. Or they would fall into destitution, and have nothing but each other.

Either way, that was the only way Anita had seen her life; a life shared with him.

But now...she could not see a dawn after this night. Things had been so carefree, so wonderful, before. But now...

Anita could not see anything but the blackness of the night, her tearstained face in the mirror; this single act of Maria's boy now had changed her completely. From a track she planned for her entire life, Anita was now thrust into an unknown idea; she didn't like the prospect of this forced detour, a detour from her plans and hopes for her life.

Now all would be different from one small act; this forced detour intensified the pain until she couldn't see anything in the darkness.


End file.
